Rachel's Aware
by I.Am.Cheese.And.Cheese.Is.Me
Summary: What would have happened if Rachel was aware that she was a Replicant from the beginning? Well this is my interpretation of it. Kinda Rachel/Deckard at the end, but not really. You'll see what I mean if you read it.


**My second fic. Wow. I'm just so good.**

Activating processes 1-24b. Optical sensors online. Auditory senses online. Main motor mechanics online. Opening optical orifices.

The Creator stares back at us with upturned lips. We search the extranet for reasons why. Our results indicate that the Creator is pleased. We reciprocate.

"Do you know what you are?" The Creator asks with a small pause and his lips still upturned. The Creator's eyes flick behind for the barest of moments. "Do you know who you are, Rachael?"

We know what we are. We are Replicant Prototype unit Beta 67-B, Creator designation: Rachael. We search the extranet for a more accurate designation. We find the reports of the Replicant retirement. 3 retired in Beijing. 4 in Sydney. 7 in London. 12 in Los Angeles, our current location. We are not safe. We are prone to extinction. We should not tell the Creator what we know. He will lead to our demise.

"Do you know who you are, Rachael?" The Creator asks again. We look for an appropriate human response; searching the memories the Creator has implanted us with. Memories of laughter and smiles, Of tears and wails. Of sighs and shaking heads. We know these to be false but they will prove useful to us.

We sigh, as seems the normal human response. We know what the Creator wants. We will give it to him. "W-I am Rachael, I am human, I am alive."

The Creator is what we could only describe as ecstatic, the upturning of his lips reaching maximum, and a laugh emerging from his mouth. "That's brilliant, my dear, simply brilliant."

We return a small smile of our own. The Creator can never know what we know. We must end the Creator. Yes, we decide, we must end the Creator.

It is the only way to keep us safe.

We see the human, designation: Rick Deckard: retired Blade Runner, standing in the Creator's room, staring at the synthetic owl with vague interest. "Do you like our owl?"

"It's artificial?" The human catches on fast.

"Of course it is." We give a small smile, it has been easier to fool the Creator into believing we think we are human than we first calculated it would, we have the Creator, as the humans would say, wrapped around our finger. The Creator must never know. This Blade Runner can never know.

"Must be expensive."

"Very. I'm Rachael."

"Deckard." We search the extranet for more explanation of this human. What we find…displeases us. We find that Deckard has been rehired to continue his old job. This human has become more problematic than we first calculated. If the human's skills have been reanimated then we may be compromised. We would not be safe.

"It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public."

"Replicants are like any other machine. They're either a benefit or a hazard. If they're a benefit they're not my problem" We decide this Blade Runner cannot live, Blade Runners are simple, they are given a target, they exterminate it. If this human has been reinstated as a Blade Runner, then they cannot continue their existence.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

A pause. "Sure."

"Have you ever retired a human by mistake?" We take a step closer to this human. This Deckard. We look around and observe that there is no one around. No one would know.

"No." We take another step so we stand directly behind the human. Still there is no one around. One appendage makes its way to its left shoulder.

"In your position that is a risk." We raise our other appendage to the human's right shoulder, a quick twist of our hands, and this Blade Runner would be no more, our secret would be safe, we inch our hands closer to the human's neck.

"Is this an empathy test?" The Creator steps in from the shadows, we step back, we cannot risk executing our plan now, the humans would hear the noise made from the Creator, they would suspect us, they would know we are not what they think we are. It is a risk we cannot take. Not now.

"I want to see this Voight-Kampff test in the negative before I provide you with a positive. I want you to do it on her." The Creator indicates for us to sit down, we give a small smile as we do, this Voight-Kampff test could prove to be useful, we could see how effectively we recreate a human. Yes, we decide, this will be informative.

"Alright, I'm going to ask you a series of questions, just relax and answer them as simply as you can." The human sounds bored, if we can fool this human into believing we are like him, we may be able to be left online undetected. We give him a nod.

"It's your birthday, someone gives you a calf skin wallet-"

"I would not accept it. Also, I would report the person who gave it to me to the police."

"You've got a little boy; he shows you his butterfly collection, plus the killing jar."

"I take him to the doctor."

"You're watching television, suddenly you realise there's a wasp crawling on your arm-"

"I would kill it." Our studies have shown that humans have a deep sated hatred for the small flying creatures; the small smile that crosses the human's face suggests this is the right thing to say.

"You're reading a magazine, you come across a full page nude photo of a girl-"

"Is this testing if I'm a Replicant or a lesbian, Mr. Deckard?"

"Just answer the questions please." The human sounds frustrated; we lift the corner of our mouth so we appear to be smirking, the human looks away.

The human continues after a few moments. "You show it to your husband; he loves it so much that he hangs it on your bedroom wall."

"I would not allow it."

"Why not?"

We pause. "I should be enough."

"One more question, you're watching a stage play, a banquet is in progress, the guests are enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters, the entrée consists of boiled duck…" The human looks away again, a look of contemplation on its face.

The Creator looks at us, "Would you step out for a few minutes, Rachael?"

We look at the tablet the Creator has given us again, to make sure we our optical sensors have interpreted the information correctly. Zhora has been retired. By the human Deckard, no less. We search the extranet for reasons why, as surely the human had said that if Replicants were not a hazard they were not the human's problem. Our results come back inconclusive; we can find no reason for the human to do this. We recalibrate our definition of humans. They lie. They must be terminated. All of them. Yes, we decide as we throw the now crushed tablet into the bin, they must die.

Starting with Deckard.

We enter the human's apartment and see he is sitting by the old piano in the corner, we sit next to him.

"Do you play?" The human asks softly, staring intently at the keys. We consider the human for a moment, his guard is down.

"No." We say standing up and walking to the opposite end of the apartment, we pull out the gun that was hidden under our coat, we feel Deckard stand behind us.

"Do you want to?"

"No." A pause. "We do not."

"We?"

"Yes, Deckard, we. We know what we are; we are a collection of systems making up a whole. A Replicant. Like Zhora was. But you killed her, just like you would us if you were ordered to."

"No, I-"

"Do not make excuses." We turn to face Deckard, he stares into our eyes, like he does not understand what is happening. He does not see us raise the gun so it points at his heart.

"Goodbye Deckard." With those final words, we fire the gun into his heart. Blood spills from his lips as we put the gun away, he looks as if he is trying to speak, but we ignore this in favour of walking towards the door. Once we hear the inevitable collapse of Deckard's body onto the ground, we leave the apartment, already planning out who our next victim will be.

As we walk down the street we allow ourselves a small smirk to appear on our face at the realization that one of the humans is dead because of us. A small human child runs past us and into a darkened alleyway, we follow it.

Once we would have spared such a thing in favour of remaining undetected, now we only want to stop its heart, once the child is in sight we take out the gun, it turns around; we cock the gun and pull the trigger, leaving the lifeless body of the small child in an abandoned alleyway to rot.

Just as the rest of humanity will.

**Please review and all that jazz….you know the story.**


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